Nuzlocke Emerald
by hoenheim-of-light51
Summary: The documentation of my Nuzlocke Challenge in Pokemon Emerald, with a few added twists. Even I don't know what's going to happen next!
1. Prologue

I can't express in words how much I yearn to be with Pokémon. How I desire to catch and train and travel with them, just like my Father did before eventually settling down as the leader of the Petalburg gym. My very first steps, according to Mom and Dad, were nearly into a patch of tall grass. Most of my childhood was spent learning about them and observing them, even having mock-battles using the one's my Dad had caught. I'd watch every night, just as night fell to see the lights of the Volbeat and Illumise twinkling in the darkness just beyond the town border; I'd stay up till midnight to hear the howling of the Poochyena; and I'd wake up at dawn to catch a glimpse of the Yanma shaking the dew off their thin, multifaceted wings.

For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of following in the steps of my Father: catching my first pokemon and travelling across Hoenn, gathering more and more pokemon as I go, until, at last, I reach the Pokémon League and become the champion of this land.

But the world of Pokémon is dangerous. While I learned about the wonder of Pokémon, Mom and Dad made sure to pound into me the dangers lurking beneath its beauty.

But I'd seen floor after floor of the tiny graves, decorated with coins, treats, and beautiful smelling incense. I'd known for a long time the price that came with a loss.

My parents, though, still refused to let me start my own journey to the League. Mom just laughed it off, saying this family only needed one pokemon trainer. Dad, my one hope, always said that he thought it would be good for me to try my hand at being a trainer…when I was older.

Every year I begged them to let me go, and every year I received the same answers. So I had to be happy training with the pokemon dad left at home. And I was happy, I suppose, for the _18 years_ I was stuck in trainer's school, learning from white boards and old encyclopedias and getting my only field work from the same pokemon.

But today, things are finally changing. I've graduated from that musty, boring building and I've moved to a new town and within minutes, things have begun looking up…in a sense.

"Krystal! What are you waiting for!" Birch shouts, his back against a tree, his left pant-leg ripped and stained with blood.

Before him is a wild Zigzagoon. Normally docile, but in a frenzy right now. A few tiny pups are huddling together in the grass not far from the scene. How could a Professor have stumbled so stupidly into the nest!

The little striped dog howls with rage.

"Hurry! The briefcase!"

I look down. The little brown case is open at my feet. Three red and white Pokeballs sit atop a mess of papers. I glance from them to the growling pokemon, ready to pounce on the Professor the instant he moves.

Is it terrible that I'm suddenly feeling happy? Feeling overjoyed and excited so that I can hardly breathe?

No, I think. It's only natural. Pokémon's in my blood. And this…this will be my first battle!

The wild Zigzagoon lunges forward. Professor Birch screams. In an instant, my hand's in the briefcase, my fingers wrapped tightly around the sphere.

I don't know what it holds. And I don't care.

"Go!"

It lands in front of the rampaging dog. A bright red light flashes, forming the outline of my new partner.

The battle has begun.

Author's notes.

So I thought I'd do those this time cause…I don't know

And yea doth my Nuzlocke Challenge sort of begin! I'm not sure why I wrote it in present tense, and every time I look at it I HATE the present tense…ness…But I couldn't get out of it while I wrote, no matter what I did, and the usual past tense kinda thing just kept sounding wrong The rest of the chapters aren't present tense, though, so that adds to the weirdness but….*shrug* As I've said, I couldn't not do it and be happy. Maybe it makes it more tense and action right? RIGHT?


	2. Chapter 1

"Mudkiiiiiip!" the little creature cried. He shook his head and flapped his tiny fins, smiling curiously—almost amiably—in the face of the angry and disoriented Zigzagoon. Could he not smell the blood in the air? Could he not sense the malice emanating from the enraged striped dog? Or…did he not even care?

I shook my head. This wasn't the time to worry about that.

"Mudkip!" I shouted. The tiny mud-fish looked up at me, still smiling, and his back fin wagged like the tail of a dog. "Tackle it!"

Mudkip rushed forward, the hard fin on its head slamming into Zigzagoon's chest. I watched Zigzagoon fly back, heard its loud yelp of agony as it landed in the grass a few feet away.

"Alright!"

But Mudkip wasn't celebrating, though he still grinned inexplicably. He kept staring at the ground where Zigzagoon lay motionless, and it remained as such for a few seconds, but then a low growl sounded from the body that sent shivers down my spine. I braced myself. Mudkip, eager but clearly frightened by the threatening noise, took one shaky step back.

We both watched the Zigzagoon rise onto small, wobbling paws.

"Just…Just one more hit oughta do it, Mudkip!"

But Zigzagoon wasn't going down without a fight. In one single blurry motion, I saw the grass in which it stood shake, watched straight line clear through the blades, and then watched it collide with Mudkip.

"No!"

His stance had stopped it from making him airborne, but now they were locked in combat, each one pushing against the other, neither giving an inch to their opponent.

"Push it back, Mudkip! C'mon!"

"Muud…" he grunted, digging his feet into the ground. I could see him sweating against the strength of the Zigzagoon. One of its feet shifted back in the dirt.

I gasped. Zigzagoon bared its small, sharp teeth. Through it all, though, Mudkip never stopped smiling. In fact, as he was pushed back another inch, his smile could only get bigger.

As his foot went slightly deeper into the earth, he tore his eyes from the murderous gaze of Zigzagoon and locked them on mine.

Those tiny oil-drop eyes were aflame with power, with a kind of strange wisdom a baby Pokémon like himself shouldn't possess. They shone with it, twinkled in the blazing sun, and then he placed them on the earth he was being pushed further and further into.

Everything clicked, and I smirked. This little guy was growing fast.

Mudkip kicked his foot out from the ground, flinging moist, sticky mud into Zigzagoon's face. It backed off immediately, barking and snapping and slamming its face into the grass, trying desperately to get the mud out of its eyes.

"One more time, Mudkip! _Tackle!_"

Mudkip lunged at the dog still rubbing its eyes against the tall grass, and smashed hard into its side. Its cry echoed in the surrounding air as it slid through the grass, finally coming to a stop with a sickening thud against a tree on the other side of the path. Then, everything was silent.

But the silence didn't last long.

"Mud! Mudkip kip!" he started jumping up and down, slapping his feet together in the air, his toothless, ever-present smile broad and brimming with happiness.

For a moment, I could only stare as the rush of adrenaline began to subside, returning my heart to its normal, easy rhythm.

And then I smiled.

"We won!"

I ran over to Mudkip and took him, midair, into my hands. I raised him towards the sky and whirled about, dancing a joyous, childish dance and laughing while he laughed and not caring how odd we must both look.

I'd won my first_ real_ Pokémon battle! _We'd_ won it! Words couldn't describe what I felt at that moment: the joy of winning and the sheer excitement of battling. It had been just as I thought it would be, and then again it was nothing like I'd dreamed—it was infinitely better.

And now that I'd tasted this, I had to have more. Just one taste and I was already addicted. I knew that. I knew that I couldn't just stay home studying or training with my Dad's baby throw-aways anymore. I had to have more. I had to battle more. I had to fight more powerful Pokémon and powerful trainers.

Together, with Mudkip—No…

I stopped twirling and brought him close to my chest. "Stephen." I smiled. "Together with you, Stephen."

He tipped his head, wondering at the name, and then nodded excitedly. "Mudkip Mudkip!"

I kissed his forehead.

Yes, with Stephen, I would finally take my journey across Hoenn.

"He seems to have taken a liking to you," Professor Birch limped over to me, smiling as he looked from me to Stephen, who was rubbing his soft-spiked cheek against my collar bone.

I nodded, chuckling softly, not caring that his eternally-damp skin was making my shirt and skin slightly wet. "Are you all right, Professor Birch?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. I've seen much worse than this, believe me," he winced as he stopped before me, shifting his weight to relieve the pain. "I'm only embarrassed to finally see you again under such…incidentally dire conditions."

"Don't worry about it," I grinned, flipping Stephen's fin idly back and forth with my finger. I turned to the little fish, "Frankly, if you hadn't stumbled into that Zigzagoon's nest, I probably wouldn't have ever battled with Stephen."

"Hmm…" He glanced back towards Littleroot, and then he laughed, bobbing his head up and down in agreement.

An old friend of my Father's, he'd known my mother since before I was born. So he knew as well I did how protective she was, and how long she'd been keeping me home, sending me to the trainer's school in Rustboro to support my ambitions—in her own way—while simultaneously stifling them; hoping that I'd simply grow out of my ambition and be happy learning about Pokémon from books and slideshows.

I love my mother, but it was infuriating sometimes how wrong she was—how wrong she _always_ was.

But even more infuriating was that…I couldn't disobey her. Sure, I'd thought about it over the years; thought about catching a Pokémon and starting my journey in secret. Well, almost in secret, as I'd told Professor Birch of my desires in the letters I sent him every now and then. But both of us knew I could never do it. Beneath mom's casual rejections, I knew there was concern and worry and fear—fear of the loneliness that would come when her daughter left, just as her husband did.

So I'd accepted her denying my requests, and probably would have still…if it weren't for Stephen.

"But now that I have, Professor…" I trailed off, looking up at him seriously.

He sighed, smiling warmly. "I expected as much." Birch reached out and patted Stephen's head. The Mudkip smiled—though he'd never really stopped—beneath his palm. "Would you like me to come with you when you talk to her?"

I shook my head, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm leaving this time for sure, with or without her permission. Now that I've found Stephen…I can't just go back to the way things were. It was only a small battle, but…" I stopped. I couldn't explain it…How fighting against that Zigzagoon had made me feel. How it was as though some part of me that'd been dormant since birth had finally awakened, and was now dominating my entire being, never to sleep again. How it was all because of Stephen, and how I knew I could never be apart from him now.

But Professor Birch didn't ask me to explain. He simply retrieved his briefcase containing the two remaining pokeballs and began walking slowly towards Littleroot Town. "We can heal Stephen back at my lab before you go home. He's probably tired."

I placed Stephen on my shoulder and, before following Professor Birch, I lifted Stephen's pokeball from the grass. I held it up to him, and he sniffed at it curiously, before looking over at me.

I winked. "You'll be fine without it, won't you."

"Mudkip!" he bonked his head-fin against my cheek, nuzzling my face as only a Mudkip could. I laughed and, sliding the ball into my pocket, made my way towards Littleroot, ignoring the icy pinpricks of guilt that still emerged when I caught sight of our new home, soon to be nearly empty once again.

If anyone comments that they "herd I like Mudkips" I'll kill them. ….SEE IF I'M KIDDING.

*ahem* Introducing my starter Mudkip, Stephen! Named as such because I was watching the Colbert Report while I started XD I went with my first thought, so there you go. He…doesn't seem psychotic, does he? One of my friends said that's what his first reaction was that he seemed a bit psychotic and…that's not what I was going for. I just couldn't shake the image of him always smiling so I went with it. (There's a lot of rolling with it in this fic, can you tell?) But he also said it'll be different when I get him down/ write him a bit more, and I agree. He's flourishing a bit more in Chapter 2.

Also, I don't mind saying I'm REALLY proud of this action sequence. Those are esTREMELY hard for me to write and I don't think I did too bad here!^^ Oh, and I'm also aware that calling Zigzagoon a dog was a mistake, as I learned later that he was the "tiny raccoon" pokemon, so any references later made will be fixed. I'm justifying it here as some kind of "raccoon dog" or…whatever. TANUKIS FOR THE WIN! XD


	3. Chapter 2

Professor Birch's lab was smaller than I'd thought it would be, or at least it seemed so if I didn't look up. Its high rounded ceiling gave it the illusion of size, but one only had to focus on the ground to see that this place was in _desperate_ need of some kind of addition. There were shelves crammed with books shoved against the walls and tables piled high with papers so close to each other I wasn't sure how his assistants actually sat down. Against the back wall, in what I assumed to be Birch's "office" was the large machine I'd seen in Pokémon centers, flanked by two large tables holding books, loose-leaf paper, and one with a few pokeballs.

A few seconds after we stepped inside, Stephen leapt off my shoulder and bounded towards the machine, nearly falling underfoot of two scientists, who were too busy mumbling and staring at their clipboards to pay him any mind. That he wanted to reach it so much meant he must be tired, but…I shook my head. Even exhausted, he had too much energy.

"Aster!" Birch called from behind me.

A man in a lab-coat poked his head up from a book at the table nearest to us. "Yes, Professor?"

"Help Krystal operate the Rejuvenation Apparatus. I should tend to this—" he gestured to his leg "—before it gets infected."

Aster paled slightly when he saw the professor's wound, "Professor Birch, what—?"

"Later. For now, just get her Pokémon taken care of." Birch slapped Aster on the shoulder, before limping off towards the back of the lab and through a small, nearly completely hidden door.

Aster and I both stared after him for a few moments, then the assistant cleared his throat, "Right, well, um, follow me, please."

We reached the machine without another word, greeted by Stephen's excited thumping of his feet on the glass dome of the machine. Beneath the glass, I saw six small, round indentures in the black base, forming a rectangle.

I reached into my pocket, ready to return Stephen to it.

Aster stopped me. "That's not necessary," he smiled. "Your Mudkip's small enough that he can fit outside the pokeball."

The scientist pressed a sequence of buttons and the dome slid to one side. Stephen leapt onto the black surface immediately, ran in a small circle, and then sat down, smiling as always as he looked from me to Aster and then back to me.

"He seems to be in good enough condition to me. Shouldn't need much more than a catnap," Aster chuckled, as another set of buttons returned the dome to its original position.

Before my eyes, the space inside the dome began to glow pink, changing Stephen an interesting shade of purple. As the light grew, Stephen yawned, and then lay on his stomach. His eyes fell closed almost immediately. Odd that so much energy could be sapped so quickly.

I stared at him for a moment as he slept. My eyes widened as a scratch on his side began to heal while I watched. I'd seen these machines before, but I'd never actually gotten to use one before, let alone watch the Pokémon physically _heal_ before me.

"It uses technology very similar to that of a pokeball," Aster told me, seeing my wonder. "Air comes in and out while the Pokémon remains, though, obviously, it heals wounds rather than merely containing the creature."

"If only we could utilize that technology for use on humans," I grinned, tipping my head towards the door through which Professor Birch had exited.

Aster sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid humans are much more difficult to heal than Pokémon...Say, uh…Krystal, correct?"

I nodded.

"Could you tell me what happened? To Professor Birch?"

"It's no big deal, really," I assured him, trying to calm his slowly fraying nerves. "He accidentally disturbed a Zigzagoon's nest out in the tall grass. It was a mother and her cubs. The mother got his leg before I showed up, but it's not that bad."

Aster sighed, falling into the chair nearest to the machine. "We're always telling him to be _careful_ when researching on his own!" He sighed again. "And I suppose_ you_ were the one who came to his aid, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah," I told him bluntly, chuckling. "Stephen and I fought it off."

He looked up at me, apology clear in his expression, "I'm sorry you had to go through the trouble of rescuing him."

"No, no," I said, "really. Don't worry about it."

Aster nodded, running his hand over the back of his neck as he tried to take my words to heart…and apparently failed at it. Was this kind of thing really routine? Was Birch just that reckless? I took the chair next to the professor's assistant while he brooded, eyes wandering towards the rows of pokeballs not far from me on the table. Furthest to the back, the row contained a full six. The one in the front held two, with the third having been removed from the beginning of the row.

"Who's in these?" I asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, and partly to try and get Aster's mind onto another subject. I couldn't stand seeing him so miserable…

He looked up, confused, then he saw where my eyes were. "Oh…Yes, those are the other starter Pokémon. Professor Birch is the only one in the region with the authority to hand out starter Pokémon, so anyone wanting to start a journey—at least more easily—has to come here. We're actually expecting quite a few new trainers to arrive in the next few weeks."

"Makes sense why there's so many…" Something occurred to me, then; my brow furrowed. "But then why'd he have the pokeballs on him on Route 101?"

"To avoid scenarios just like the one you saved him from," Aster laughed and then sighed. "Apparently it never occurred to him that the attacker could _separate_ him from his briefcase. _Or_ to just keep them on his hip. I swear, the man's a genius but sometimes he has no common sense."

I chuckled, twirling one of the pokeballs around with my finger. I wondered if there was another Mudkip in it, or if a press of the button would send out the tiny firebird or little green gecko. I moved my hand to the next one, feeling the smooth surface beneath the grooves of my skin, and wondering the same thing all over again.

What would have happened to Stephen, I wondered, if the ball I'd lifted from the briefcase had contained Torchic or Treecko? Who would've eventually found him and…would I have ever ended up battling him? All interesting thoughts as my eyes drifted to his form, sleeping soundly beneath the blanket of warm pink light.

"You should count yourself lucky," Aster said, breaking me from my reverie. "You got the first pick of Pokémon, even if it was accidentally."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I smiled. "Though it doesn't look like I'm the first to choose my Pokémon."

"Hm?" he blinked, then followed my eyes to the blank space at the beginning of the row. "Oh, yes. Well, you're the first among the impending mass of trainers to get your Pokémon, anyway. This one was actually taken by Professor Birch's son earlier today."

My smile was gone in a flash. I turned immediately to face Aster. "He has a son!" In all the years I'd spent corresponding with him, he'd never _once_ mentioned he had a child, let alone a son who was a fellow Pokémon trainer!

Aster jumped in his chair, face going white. "U-um…Darn it! I _really_ shouldn't have said that…!"

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Well...Nothing it's just…Mmm…" Aster leaned back in his chair. "The Professor doesn't really like to talk about him much."

I leaned forward. "But _why_?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I've only been working here just shy of a year and it was only a few weeks ago that I heard of him. And even then it was completely by chance. The professor received a letter from him and I asked an older member of the staff about the name on the return address."

"That's…odd…" I looked back at the door. Professor Birch was one of the most…shall we say, vocal people I knew. Dad was always telling me stories of how he'd go on for hours about his friends, his research, anything and everything. Frankly, he would talk about so much so long that I was shocked this man didn't already know who I was. If he had a son, he should spend _days_ telling anyone who'd listen about him. So why…?

"Krystal."

I turned back to Aster, "What?"

The scientists face grew suddenly and intensely serious. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Do me a favor, and please don't tell the professor I told you about him."

"But why not? The professor and I go way back. I'm sure he'd tell me more if I just—"

Aster raised his hand to cut me off. "Let me put it this way. That letter with his son's name on it…I found it, unopened, in the garbage."

"Oh…" I looked down at the missing pokeball, questions burning on my tongue, but I swallowed them all. "I understand."

"Thank you," Aster rose, a smile spreading across his face so smoothly it was as though it had never left. "Now then, I think it's about time your Mudkip—Stephen was his name?—was waking up."

Sure enough, as if on cue, I turned to see Stephen's little eyes opening and the light gently starting to fade. I stood before the machine while Aster pressed that same combination of buttons and the dome slid down. Still groggy, Stephen looked up at me, the gentle smile on his face—present even while he slept.

I took him in my arms, waiting for him to fully awaken before making him cling to my shoulder, and then turned to Aster. "Thank you for letting him rest, Aster. We both really appreciate it."

"My pleasure, Krystal. I'll tell Professor Birch you've left." He reached out and patted Stephen on the head. "You take care little guy, alright?"

Stephen nodded vaguely, barely aware of the world.

"At least tell me his name," I whispered, smiling for appearances alone.

For a moment, Aster just continued to stroke Stephen's head. But then he looked up at me, grinning despite his austere gaze.

He straightened up, removing his hand and wiping it on his coat. Our eyes didn't leave one another's.

"…Grey."

I quickly logged away what I'd learned from Aster, forcing it reluctantly into the back of my mind. Curious as I was, there were more important things I had to be worrying about now.

Stephen turned over in my arms when we exited the lab, hiding his still-vulnerable eyes from the bright afternoon sun. "Muud..." he grumbled, his face pressed against the fold of my elbow.

"Oh, come on, you weren't even asleep for that long!"

"Kip," he replied shortly.

"Whatever," I sighed. "Just wake up quickly, alright? I'm going to need that smile of yours right now, Stephen."

"Mudkip?" He poked his head out, curiosity trumping discomfort. I assumed he looked up at me, expecting an explanation, but I could only look straight ahead at our new house, the moving truck and its trained Pokémon long gone.

They were there again, those tiny shards of guilt jabbing into my gut as we approached my house. Even with all my determination, all my certainty, I knew they'd be there. Because I loved my mother, and no matter what she said or what she did, I'd be leaving Littleroot as soon as possible; leaving her alone to wait for letters or phone calls—both of which Dad sent us often, and I would be sure to, as well, but which were far from an adequate replacement for her family. That was how she saw it, anyway. She'd told me so in the way she looked when she read those letters, in her voice when she said goodbye into the receiver. And that had been while she had _my_ company. Not even having that anymore…It would break her heart.

I stepped up onto the porch and stopped before the door. Stephen bumped my chin with his head-fin and I looked down, eyebrows rising when I saw he looked up at me with a sad, almost concerned expression. Impossible…He could actually _not_ smile?

Grinning, I lifted him up, holding him at eye level with me. "Don't look like that, Stephen. What did I just say?"

He tilted his head, face unchanging.

"It'll be fine. I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go. No matter what, we're bound for the Pokémon League, and she…she'll be fine after a little bit. Now, c'mon, stop worrying and just…smile for me, okay? Smile for me _and_ her."

Silently, he nodded, and he did smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

That was close enough for me. I placed him on my shoulder and opened the door.

Mom was busy hustling around the kitchen, putting our various breakable and stainless-steel articles in drawers and cabinets. Her hair was pulled back and disheveled, a few short strands sticking to the back of her neck. Only a few boxes remained in the living-room—most of them belonging to me. The low murmuring of a news anchor played beneath the scene, pouring through small holes beneath an unnaturally-lit screen. Mom didn't realize anything had changed until I shut the door.

"Ah, is that you, Krystal?" she called without turning around, stretching to put a stack of plates onto the highest shelf. She grunted with the effort, and then when the dishes were safely in place she stood before them triumphantly, raising a hand to wipe sweat from her brow. "You've been gone a while—" she started to turn around "—I guess you had…"

She had been smiling. Forcing emotion away from my face, I watched it slowly fade as her eyes found Stephen. He shifted on my shoulder, but I didn't know his expression. I kept my eyes on my mother.

For a long time, we stayed that way. I'm not sure what emotion I was looking for during that time, while I remained focused on my mom's face, but she betrayed nothing, remaining as stoic as I'd made myself to look. Even her eyes were blank, brown and empty as the desert. But I could imagine what was going on inside her head, what feelings she was keeping silently restrained, as she stared at the proof that the day she'd never wanted to come had arrived.

Suddenly, the dam gave way and emotion flooded her face. Her cheeks flushed red and her limp hands hardened into fists. Her head snapped fiercely in my direction, sending her sweat-soaked hair whipping about her face.

"Where did you get this!" she shrieked.

I flinched, unable to stop myself from taking a step back. To say that my mother never got angry wouldn't be far from the truth; even when she was, she never raised her voice. Her burning eyes and blood-tinged skin were things I'd never seen before, wasn't expecting to see now, and it struck me cold, shaking my indelible wall of confidence.

"F-From Professor Birch…" I cleared my throat, despising my quiet, stammering voice. I cleared my throat quickly and tried again, "From Professor Birch."

"You asked him for a Pokémon! Without my _permission_!"

"It wasn't like that mom. It was an accident!"

"Accident!" she repeated

I didn't really like the idea of telling her ex_actly_ how I received Stephen, as it would no doubt make things far worse than they already were, but I had no intention of lying to her. So I told her everything, albeit succinctly, up until I'd entered Birch's lab. And as I relived it all in my head, though I spared details in words, I became gradually aware of Stephen's weight on my shoulder. I focused on that sensation, recalling that weight as it had been in my hands moments after our victory, and I could feel that quaking fear beginning to cease, feel that powerful certainty returning as my thoughts turned only to him, and something else with it.

Anger.

All of the anger and frustration that had been building within me for years was surging to the surface. I hated that I could tell her every detail of my first battle with Stephen and she wouldn't understand what it meant to me; that she never had, never would, and never _could_ understand what being with Pokémon meant to me. I hated that she was keeping me from fulfilling my dream when it was right in front of me—that it had finally taken this accident to get me that close to it. But more than that, I hated that she'd made me feel doubt, even for a second, that I'd be able to fulfill it at all.

Just before I finished, she cut me off. "You put your life in the hands of this…_thing_?" She laughed bitterly, "I almost _wish_ it had been so simple as you disobeying me, Krystal! Do you have any idea how—?"

"How dangerous wild Pokémon can be?" I threw her words back at her. "That's all you've _ever_ told me!"

"Well, clearly, you haven't been listening!"

I felt something snap.

"_I _haven't been listening? What right do _you_ have to tell me that! I've been begging you to let me get a Pokémon of my own all my life and you just threw me into Trainer School for thirteen years!"

"You weren't ready for a Pokémon yet! I was doing what was best for you!"

"_No_, mom!" I roared, taking a step forward. "You were doing what was best for _you_! You've _always_ done what was best for you!"

Mom took a step back, aghast. I could see fear in her eyes and some part of me hated myself for putting it there, but a stronger part of me didn't care.

"You put me in that school because you _knew_ it would keep me home, because you were too scared of being alone to let me do what _I _wanted to do. If it were up to you, I'd stay here forever and become just like you are: Weak, afraid, and alone. Well, I'm not leaving it up to you. I didn't come here to ask for your permission to leave. I came here to _tell_ you."

That fear took over her entire expression as my words sank in. I watched it spread from her eyes over her cheeks, and then radiate down to her hands, softening them and raising them to her chest, just over her heart.

"W-What…?"

"You're not stopping me, mom." I stared straight into her eyes. "Not anymore. I'm going to the Pokémon League with Stephen and there's nothing you can do about it."

Right before my eyes, she broke down not into tears, but into violent tremors. She shook her head slowly, clutching at her shirt. "No…No, no, y-you're not…"

I looked away, unable to stand seeing her this way anymore. It broke my heart to be hurting her as bad as I was and I wanted to apologize, to voice the remorse that lay buried beneath all my anger and determination, but…I knew what would happen if I did.

"I'll be sure to call and write you," I assured her, starting to turn, feeling my serious expression wavering. "Goodbuh—"

"_Krystal, no!_"

I felt her arms wind tightly, almost painfully so, around me. I turned to find her face right next to mine. Her cheeks were still red and she shook all over, but her eyes were brimming with something else.

"Please don't leave me!" she sobbed, salty rivers pouring down her face. "Don't leave me alone, please. I love you. No matter what, I've always loved you. So please…_Please_…"

She buried her face in my shoulder, pleading with me in muffled tones.

"I know, Mom," I murmured gently. "I know. And I love you, too."

I lifted my arms slowly, moving hers in the process as they pinned them to my sides, and placed them around her shoulders. Hers returned swiftly to their place, her hands clutching my back.

"Do what's best for _me_ now, and let me go."

She began to sob loudly, her tears soaking through my shirt. I held her tighter, fearing I might crush her; she was that small and fragile within my grasp.

Neither of us said anything more, and the house became silent except for her sobs and the mumbling of the television. I shut my eyes and laid my cheek on her head, rocking her back and forth as she cried. And I wondered how many times before that I'd been a child crying in her arms, desperate for the warmth of my mother and her gentle swaying to comfort me.

Even after her tears had dried, we stayed that way for a long time, eventually becoming still and remaining motionless in each other's arms.

Until, at last, she pulled away and looked up at me, her eyes swollen and red, but no longer afraid of what they beheld.

"Stay here tonight," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I promise I won't stand in your way tomorrow morning. Just, please…Give me tonight."

"Alright." I kissed her tear-stained cheek, a tiny smile on my face.

Only then did I notice that Stephen had left my shoulder for hers, and as I watched he gently nuzzled her other cheek, smiling warmly when she looked over. She jumped, surprised at the contact, and they just stared at each other for a moment. Then, smiling a small, forced, awkward smile, my mom slowly lifted her hand to his forehead, stroking his damp, blue skin.

I laughed so hard I cried.

HARDEST chapter to far, let ME tell YOU! Probably because it was so dialogue heavy, which I ALWAYS have trouble with. However, it wasn't actually until near the very end that I had problems, and I was helped through them by my Editor-in-Chief^^ Thanks to his input, I was able to think on the character of Krystal's mom a little more and decide where I wanted to go with her, and thus…this was born. (I felt like Krystal got really mean, and I hated myself a little while I was writing it…But I guess that's a good thing? *shrug*

I REALLY liked the ending of this one, too! I was stuck for a few minutes after Krystal's last line and KNEW I wanted something else, but wasn't sure what…What I got was one of my first thoughts and I think it worked out quite well!

And what of the mysterious "Grey"? Why does his father hate him so? Will Krystal ever see him!

Who knows~? :3


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